La Vie Boheme
by Elizabeth Theresa
Summary: To Days of inspiration, playing hookie, makin somethin out of nothin... Meaningless drunkin toasts, or were they? Read and review please! The Need to Express has been added.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Duh!

A/N: This is going to be a longer piece that goes through the various toasts in "La Vie Boheme". Some of them will be funny, some of them will be just pointless fluff, and all the characters will appear. (I think, it isn't all written yet but at least I know where this one is going.)

I don't think the prologue does a very good job of explaining where the story is going, but I didn't want to just jump right in so I wrote this. Read and review, please!

A/N2: Sorry about previous spelling errors. I believe I have fixed them, if not please let me know.

Prologue

From the moment Maureen's protest began, the Bohemians knew that that Christmas was going to be different. None of them could have said how they knew, but all of them had a feeling that someday they would tell their children about that night. They watched in awe as Maureen vented her wrath in the only way she really knew, through song and dance. They participated as Maureen led the residents of the 11th Street Lot in a riot against the constrictions of society. They applauded when Mark's footage of said riot landed a spot on the night's news, and they laughed at Mark's impromptu salute to la vie Boheme. As they danced on tables and toasted random things none of them stopped to really think about what had been previously toasted. If they had they would have realized that Mark had not only been toasting the Bohemian life in general, he had been toasting them. Everything he had said had a story behind it. Some of the stories brought back painful memories, some of them were just plain stupid, but every last word Mark had spoken meant something to the little family assembled in the Life Cafe that Christmas Eve.

However, that night was a night to be remembered, not a night for remembering, and so the significance of Mark's words was lost on them. Years later those who remained would look back and finally understand what Mark had done, shown them the brighter points in even the saddest memories. And they would thank him for it.

A/N: I almost have the next chapter, "To Days of Inspiration" complete, so please review and tell me how I'm doing thus far.


	2. To Days of Inspiration

Disclaimer: Do I really need to explain this? I, don't, own, Rent!

A/N: Okay, first let me apologize, again, for my spelling errors on the last chapter. They are fixed, and now I have a fantastic beta, so hopefully that won't happen again.

Thank you all so much for the reviews, they meant a lot!

Thanks to Sirius Black Luver for the fabulously fast beta, you are quite appreciated!

To Days of Inspiration

It was cold. Well, it was usually cold these days, but Mark was pretty sure it was below zero in the loft. Everyone else was gone. Roger was probably off getting high with some girl he didn't know, Collins was off dealing with his diagnosis of HIV in his own way, which seemed to be to bury himself in books. Benny had run away from them with his tale between his legs as soon as he found out Collins had HIV. And Mark's girlfriend, Maureen, was probably out getting laid by someone who obviously wasn't Mark. Oh yes, he was cold.

The camera Mark's parents had given him when he was 16 was sitting on the card table in the corner collecting dust. He had told his parents he was dropping out of Brown to make films, he had told his friends that was his dream. It was his dream, as far as Mark had dreams. That didn't mean he was particularly inspired to film anything great. The only things he had filmed since moving to New York were Roger's band performances, and since Mark now refused to go watch his stoned friend embarrass himself in public his camera was as useful as their broken heater.

There had been a time, when he was still the naive Jewish boy from Scarsdale, when he had wanted to write screenplays, too. He had flung his unfinished works of "art" off the fire escape one night in a fit of rage. He wished he had kept them, they would have made nice fire kindling.

He didn't know what had come over him, maybe hypothermia had finally set in, but Mark suddenly found himself on his feet. He let the two blankets he had wrapped around his shoulders fall to the floor, not noticing that he was standing directly beneath the crack in the ceiling that let in a cold breeze. He went into the tiny kitchen, took down one of the paper cups Collins had found for a discount, no one had asked where, and filled it with water. He returned to the main room and lifted his camera from its resting-place. Surprisingly there was no film in the holder, so Mark traipsed into his bedroom and dug around in his drawer until he found an unused role. He loaded the camera, picked up the leaking paper cup, by now only half full of water, and pushed his way onto the fire escape. He wound the camera, turned it toward himself, and began to narrate. "December 4, 1987." He raised the hand holding the paper cup so it was in front of the camera. In a mockery of a toast he said, "To days of inspiration!" as he pulled his arm back and let the water fly.

A/N2: I'm going to take some advice and not hold chapters ransom for reviews. But wow, 7 reviews in one night on the first chapter, I was doing a happy dance all night! Please, make me a happy girl again! I don't have the next chapter completely written yet, so suggestions are welcome. Plus, reviews motivate me to write faster.


	3. Playing Hooky

Disclaimer: I do not own Rent. I'm sorry, I know America is a very sew-happy country, but sew someone else. All I've got is a half-eaten hamburger mushroom pizza.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Thanks also to Sirius Black Luver for the amazing beta, this chapter is better for her input!

Playing Hooky

"Benjamin, this is absolutely appalling!" Allison Grey's voice echoed from their master bedroom. Benny raised his head from his hand and sighed.

"Allie, why is it so terrible to miss work for one day?"

"Because, it isn't responsible! You want my father to think you are responsible, don't you?" Benny sighed and stood up. As he walked toward the room he shared with his wife he realized that her reasons were always the same. Do it to please her father. He loved her, he truly did, but sometimes he wondered whether he had married Allison or her father.

"Of course I want him to think I am responsible," Benny said as he entered the bedroom. Smiling at Allison, he added "But I would also like to spend some time with my incredibly beautiful wife." He slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his nose into her hair. She giggled softly, turned in his embrace, and kissed him.

"But baby, in order to spend time with your beautiful wife I would have to be irresponsible, too."

"Doesn't your father want you to experience all different cultures?" he asks as his hands work their way beneath her perfectly ironed blouse.

"Yes..." She trails off, unsure where he is going with that statement.

"Time for you to experience the Bohemian lifestyle then," he said as his fingers tugged at the thin cotton. "There's nothing like hands on experience."

"And if I was going to consent, just this once, what would we need?" Her slender fingers are now tugging at his expensive nightshirt.

"Well, I guess anything you think is fun." He added teasingly, "Or any one," as he nibbled at her ear.

"And what, pray tell, will we tell Daddy when neither of us show up when he is expecting us?"

"Tell him we're playing hooky."

A/N2: Sorry it was so short, I hope you liked it anyway. Review and tell me, please! I live on reviews, as Cameragirl knows they make me do little happy dances. Make me a happy writer!


	4. Makin Somethin out of Nothin

Disclaimer: Still don't own it, though I'm getting the DVD as soon as it comes out. 

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had a case of writer's block coupled with a major case of Algebra homework. 

Thanks as always to Serius Black Luver for the fantastic, and fast, beta. 

Read, enjoy, and review! 

Makin Somethin out of Nothin

Benny studied the girl in the dim candlelight. She was beautiful. Not that he hadn't seen pretty girls before, the ones who went to his high school were good looking enough, but this girl was pretty in a way that no one from his home could ever be. Her hair was perfectly black, clean, and shiny from expensive shampoos and conditioners. Her skin was a makeup artist's dream, peaches and cream without a blemish to be seen. Benny imagined that, if he were to somehow get up the nerve to brush a finger against her cheek, it would feel like glass against his callused hands. And her fingernails were professionally manicured with smooth bright red paint, not hand painted with cheap red that started to chip within hours of application. In short she was any boy's dream girl, and Benny could not seem to stop himself from staring.

"Benny boy, is something the matter?" The voice startled Benny back to his senses, and he forced himself to focus his gaze on the woman across the table.

"No, why do you ask, Claire?"

"You were starin at one of them girls over there weren't you, Benny boy?"

"No, of course not," Benny denied quickly. He found himself studying her hands to avoid looking in her eyes. Chipped red nail polish stared back at him.

"Don't lie to me!" the woman exploded, making to stand up.

"Clair, I wouldn't lye to you, I wasn't staring at anyone else!" Benny lied again as he put a hand on her arm.

"Don't touch me!" the crying female exclaimed as she turned away from the table. "And my name is Tracy, not Claire!"

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Benny jammed his key into the door to his family's apartment, shoved the door open hard enough so it banged against the wall, then slammed it shut when he was inside.

"Benjamin, is that you?" his mother called from somewhere inside.

"Yes," he called back as he headed toward her voice. It didn't take long to find her, their apartment only had 4 rooms counting the bathroom.

"How was your date?" she asked when they were facing each other.

"I've had better, I think," Benny muttered.

"Oh Benjamin, you didn't let your gaze wander again?" The exasperation in his mother's voice almost made Benny feel guilty. He didn't answer, so she continued. "Benny, Benny, those girls aren't your type."

"How do you know?" he asked sharply.

"They're a different kind of girl than you're allowed to date. In their eyes you are nothing," his mother said. He knew she was simply explaining something she felt to be true, trying to protect her child from heartache, but he couldn't help but be hurt.

"Not forever," he muttered as he turned away. "Someday they'll notice me, someday I'll matter to people." As he dropped onto the lumpy sofa that was his bed Benny murmured, "Someday I'll be something."

A/N: Like I said, please review!


	5. The need to Express

Disclaimer: I don't own Rent. I'm also choosing not to own this chapter.

A/N: Sorry it has been so long since I updated, life got in the way. I wrote this chapter in about 45 minutes, and it sucks! But at this point I don't care, I just needed to get past it.

I didn't send this to my beta, so any mistakes are totally mine. I just wanted to get this posted and move on to better chapters.

Read and review.

The need to Express

He flung himself into his bedroom, dropping his books and letting them, and the papers they had held, fall where they may. He was so far past the point of caring it wasn't even funny. "How dare they!" he hissed under his breath as he yanked his good shirt and tie out of the closet and dropped them into a new suitcase that had been set out on his bed. "How dare they just send me packing to some distant relative. All this is is an excuse to dump my problems onto someone else, they don't want to deal with me if I'm different at all!" He felt moisture building at the corners of his eyes. He slid his long sleeve over his right hand and then swiped the cloth-covered appendage over his face, erasing any trace of weakness. Tom Collins had learned long ago that crying only made things worse.

"Tommy, are you packing in there?" His mother's voice was calm, as sweet as ever.

"Yes, mother," Collins managed between clenched teeth.

"You need to hurry, the bus leaves in a little over two hours." He heard her retreat down the hall before he had a chance to answer.

Really, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he could not blame his parents for sending him away. It was his own fault, or at the very least he shared part of the blame. If he had not been gullible enough to listen to his school counselor he would not be in this mess.

She had come into his Chemistry class earlier in the year and talked to the students about emotional expression. According to Miss Ansle, or Miss Asshole as she was now known to Collins, it was essential to one's mental health that they express what they feel. "Use your talents," she had suggested. So Collins had begun to write in one of his black and white notebooks. He never used them for notes, why should he write down things he already knew, so the thing might as well go to good use.

That would all have been fine and well if his mother hadn't read his private thoughts. Now she knew he was gay, abnormal, whatever she chose to call it. And instead of dealing with it herself she was sending him to his grandparents in New York. All because of his need to express.

A/N2: Again, I apologize for the crappy chapter. The next chapter is in the works, and I promise it is much better!

Please, please, please review! I really need the inspiration to get writing again now that school is out.


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